


Exercise Is Fun

by goddesswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Exercise Smut, F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddesswan/pseuds/goddesswan
Summary: Emma installs a pull-up bar in her and Killian's bedroom and Killian has other ideas for it's use.





	Exercise Is Fun

Killian was confused upon entering his bedroom one day to find an odd metal contraption nailed above the door. It was black and red, consisting of two long rods sticking out of the wall with some sort of foam padding at the ends and a long bar secured across the top.

He meant to ask Emma about it when she finally returned home that evening, but when she walked through the front door, hair tousled from the wind, there was only one thing on his mind. It involved the bedroom, yes but not that particular piece of equipment.

The next day, he arrives home to a seemingly empty house. Since he’s moved in, if she’s there, he has always been greeted by Emma, either from the living room or kitchen or by her running down the stairs, a hug and a kiss and a blinding grin on her face. It warms his heart down to his toes each and every time, to know she’s there, waiting for him to return to their home. So, considering that it’s the afternoon and she’s unlikely to be asleep, he assumes she’s out when he doesn’t hear so much as a peep from her.

Emma taught him a phrase once, not long ago, about how when one assumes they “make an ass out of you and me.” He’d thought it was funny at the time, his humorous little Swan. When he treads up the stairs to their room and hears a grunt, he recalls the conversation for a flicker of a moment.

All thoughts fly out of his head, though when he rounds the corner of the upstairs hallway to find Emma dangling from the contraption and pulling herself up to her chin. He’s frozen for a moment, in awe of all of her flesh on display—her tiny black shorts and a gray, what she calls, “sports bra” doing little to hide anything. Her sheer strength is breathtaking.

He remembers finding her in a similar position, below the deck of his ship, all that time ago in Neverland. She’d been more clothed at that point in time but damn if he hadn’t found her enticing. Nearly as enticing as he finds her now, her legs tucked up behind her, crossed at the ankles, calves straining, her firm round ass flexing with each pull, the skin of her arms rippling.

It’s intoxicating, the sight of her displaying her strength and he’s drunk on arousal with her. He’d stand there all day, entranced but he wants a better view. He walks forward until her feet nearly graze his abdomen.

From this placement, he can see everything. All of her beautiful skin highlighted by the midday sun filtering through the arched window directly across from her. They’ve finally had time to relax and just be and she’s taken up sunbathing on the deck of the Jolly (nude when he can convince her) and her skin is slightly tanner than what he’s accustomed too. The rays of the sun have also multiplied the number freckles dotting her skin. And right now, he can see nearly every little freckle, from the smattering across her shoulders, varying in size, trailing down her back—constellations against her skin—to the prominent dot on the back of her knee. A droplet of sweat forms beneath the material of her bra and runs down her back stopping at a freckle resting above the line of her shorts.

He wants to lick it.

He does. He leans forward and presses his tongue flat against the bead of moisture on her back and brings it up the line of her spine, trailing off to graze as many little dots of pigment as possible.

She startles and drops to the floor with a loud thud.

“Killian, what—” he cuts her off with the press of his mouth against hers, their teeth clashing with the force of his kiss. He may have taken her by surprise but it doesn’t stop her from returning the kiss, tangling her tongue with his in a level of passion rivaling his own. After a few moments, he swipes his tongue across her upper teeth and then catches her bottom lip between his own, pulling back with a soft tug.

He rests with their foreheads pressed together, tilting his face and brushing the tip of his nose back and forth over the tip of hers.

“So that’s what that thing is for,” he exhales into the minimal space between their open mouths.

She looks puzzled for a moment, her brow wrinkling and her nose scrunching up adorably.

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. What prompted it?”

She shrugs. “I’ve always wanted one I guess. It’s a pull-up bar.”

“I didn’t know it’s exact purpose but I gathered as much when I walked in to see you using it,” he nods to the bar with a grin. It makes him ache that she’s gone through life _wanting_ so many things. It’s inconceivable really that this wonderful woman was denied the barest of necessities at times when she’s always deserved the universe. But it brings him joy that not only is she finally able to give herself what she wants, but that she’s also comfortable with doing so. He vows she’ll never go a day wanting for anything else in her life.

“Yeah, I uh— I guess I should have mentioned something before buying it and hanging it over the door but it was kind of an Amazon impulse buy,” she explains herself with a small, almost nervous smile. He wants to shake her and tell her she need not consult him before doing anything that satisfies her as long as she’s safe. He only does the latter.

“Emma, love, buy whatever you’d like, whenever you’d like for wherever you’d like and I promise, as long as it’s not an abundance of sugar, you’ll hear no complaints from me.” He runs his hand and hook up and down her sweat cooled arms, gooseflesh forming beneath the light hairs.

“It’s your house too though and I shouldn’t go screwing things places without at least telling you first,” she argues, lines forming across her forehead.

“As long as I’m the only person your _screwing_ places, we’ll be fine,” he vows, too seriously for the innuendo-laced words, smoothing the lines out with him thumb. “Now, tell me about this device.”

“Well, it’s a pull-up bar.”

“As we’ve already covered.”

“Yeah, yeah. I went for the bolted in option. I’m not fond of the idea of drilling holes in the walls ‘cause most of the apartments and places I’ve stayed in before have had a strict no painting, no holes, not change to any of the walls whatsoever policy. So, I’m not really used to being able to just hang things wherever I want. Not that I’ve really had any pictures or decorations to hang before…” She trails off for a moment, thinking of unpleasant times he’d rather she not focus on. He moves his hand to her shoulder, rubbing the taught muscle and pulling her back to the present.

“But uh, I also don’t trust the ones that just hang over the door. They get in the way of shutting it, so you gotta take them on and off every time you use them. And besides just being annoying, they really don’t seem safe to me. I mean how tight can they really latch on to the narrow strip of wood? And just how sturdy is the doorframe? You’re bound to make an error taking it on and off all the time. So, I just got the mostly permanent one that seems safer and doesn’t have to be moved to close the door.”

She’s adorable, truly, talking about the nuisances of pull-up bars and their varying degrees of safety. The man can’t be blamed for wanting to kiss her senseless.

“Mmm,” he hums, shuffling just a little closer, crowding her up against said unsturdy door frame, pulling the holder out of her hair to spill it down her back then resting his hand above her head. “Brilliant decision making, my love.”

She practically melts back into the wood. _Good._

“It’s a little high up though wouldn’t you think?”

“I can jump,” she huffs, indignantly.

“Do show.”

She ducks out from beneath his arm, takes a step back, and hops up, grabbing onto the bar.

“Agile,” he murmurs, bending slightly forward, brushing his breath over the skin along her ribs and pulls her shorts and underthings straight off her legs.

“Hey!” she shouts but before she can drop down, he wraps her legs around him.

“Let’s put those muscles to use.”

“Killian,” she whines and tightens her thighs around him when he lets go of her legs momentarily to pull his pants down.

“Ahh, come on now,” he coerces, rubbing his hardening length along her damp folds. “Look at you, you’re already wet.”

“Working out gets the blood flowing.” She shifts her grip on the bar.

“Whatever you tell yourself, dear.”

And he pulls back to grip himself, barely offering her a breath before pushing inside of her.

“Oh,” she sighs, her eyes rolling back.

“Lovely, angle isn’t it?” he comments, licking up the salty skin of her straining neck, carefully scraping his teeth down along flexing tendon.

“Mhm.” She nods eagerly.

His thrusts start off slow, making sure she’s got a good enough grip on the bar and he on her legs. He uses his hook to lift her bra until the tight band is resting just above her nipples, pressing the roundness of her breasts down firmly. He swipes the curve along each of them a few times, encouraging them to a peak. When he’s satisfied with sight, he moves his arm back around her thigh and lowers his mouth to bite into her, running the tip of his tongue over the bud held between his teeth, delighting in the way she gasps and arches herself against him.  

He relishes the feeling of her flesh encompassing him, her warm, wet walls pulling him in with each push of his hips. The slow pace is nearly agonizing, so wonderfully good, sending bursts of pleasure along the burning pulse of blood beneath his skin, but not enough to actually _get_ them anywhere. And while he does so enjoy teasing her, he’s not sure how long she’ll be able to hold herself up.

She seems to be thinking along the same lines and begins to jerk her hips, angling to fasten their movements. So he meets the tempo she sets and quickens the speed of his thrusts. They both begin to move faster and faster until she’s nearly thrashing against him, the sight of her glorious breasts bouncing in his face nearly undoing him. She’s a goddess above him, her long golden hair cascading down her back, her jaw tight and cheekbones thrown into sharp relief, and her endless span of sun-kissed skin glistening anew with sweat. He wonders how he got so lucky and how in the hell he’s going to stop himself from coming before her.

But he holds strong, driving his hips hard and fast and precise. He thrusts unrelentingly, adjusting only to occasionally dip lower and swivel his hips just so on the upward push. They keep going at the rapid pace, unable to form words, with nothing but the sounds of their skin slapping together, her heavy moans, his rough grunts, and the combination of their forceful breaths. Focused on nothing but that peak of pleasure and ensuring they both go over it. And then her breathing turns into near sobs and she cries out as he feels her walls constrict and spasm around him. Her grip slackens off the bar and her hands smack against his shoulders. She nearly topples backward but he lifts his arm behind her cradling the back of her head and aiming her face into his neck.

“Alright, love. Hold on just a moment longer.”

She pants into his skin as he walks her over to the bed and drops her on the edge, slipping out of her for only a moment before lifting her legs, tucking the bend of his arms below the creases of her knees. He nudges back inside of her and resumes his swift pace. So close to his own release, he only manages a few thrusts before he’s spilling himself inside of her. Barely managing to angle himself so that his whole body doesn’t come crashing down atop her, smacking their faces together, he lands to the side of her. He can hardly breathe through the thick fabric of the duvet across their bed but he’s in no position to do so much as turn his face anytime soon.

The ratio to upper body on the bed is outweighed by that of his lower half, dangling off and he slowly slides onto the floor. He lies there feet and back flat against the wood, knees tucked up. Emma, apparently bereft of his skin against hers, crawls down alongside him, curling herself up to him and tucking her head into the crook of her shoulder.

“You’re unbelievable,” she says lowly, voice rasping, and runs her nose along the skin of his ribs.

“Aye, my dear. As are you,” he sighs flopping his head to the side to kiss the crown of her skull, leaving his mouth resting there, breathing in the scent of her hair.

“You really like my pull-up bar, huh?”

“I like the sight of you using it.”

“Maybe I should get one of those angled, leg press machines next,” she contemplates.

“I have no bloody clue what that is but I’m sure I agree.”


End file.
